Giving This World All We Got
by All.Is.Now.Harmed
Summary: Lydia is at her grandma's lake house trying to get a break from her hectic life and can't help shake the feeling that she's not alone. So she calls the pack for backup and considering she threw mountain ash all around the house the only who can actually can save her is Stiles. (Set during Season 4, with assassins) (Stydia)


Giving This World All We Got

Lydia doesn't know what to do, so at the first sign of trouble she surrounds the house with mountain ash.

If it was anything supernatural, there was no way it was getting inside.

She calls the pack quickly after, pacing around the house for a signal. She tries Scott first, knowing he was the type to answer with the first ring. Except this time he doesn't, and dread fills her core.

She doesn't want to call. They're basically all on the deadpool, anything could happen, but then again she doesn't want to die. So calling was the more reasonable answer.

She tries Stiles. And she's on ring three before he answers. But at least he does.

"Lydia?"

"I'm at the lake house. Someone's outside, I-I don't know what to do. I tried calling Scott I—" There is no time for greetings. Something is wrong and she needs help.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing out there on your own?"

"Doesn't matter. Send help. I sealed a barrier of mountain ash around the perimeter of the house so if its something supernatural it can't get in, but if it's not…" She can't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"Mountain ash?" He quickly asked, remembering the night he had to cover the perimeter of that rave to keep the Kanima inside. It was literally years ago.

"Where'd you get mountain ash? And that much of it? Cause if I remember correctly that lake house is pretty large—" He seems to trail off, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Stiles, the questions aren't helping right now!" She hisses back. She's not actually frustrated with him in any way, it was just the anticipation slowing getting to her.

"Okay, okay!"

"Are you getting help?" She swallows pacing around the kitchen trying to keep herself distracted. The atmosphere around her churred thick like molasses. She had a bad feeling about this.

Stiles nods. "We're coming."

"We?"

"I'll grab Scott and the rest. You hang on Lyds."

 _Lyds_. She smiles. He hadn't called her that in a while.

"Hurry."

"Do you want me to stay on the line?" He then asks. Yes. Yes, stay on the line. I need a distraction. Don't leave me here completely alone. She wants to respond, but instead she finds herself mumbling no. As if hearing the worry in fill the tone of his voice was more unbearable than standing there in absolute silence.

The truth was she didn't want the phone call to turn into some big emotional realize, and judging by the situation it was bound to go that way.

"N-no. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

No.

"Yes." She lied.

She didn't need the emotional impact Stiles Stilinski made on her on top of everything else right now.

The wait is long. And the longer she waits the more she regrets coming out here in the first place. Especially alone. What the hell was she thinking?

But she couldn't entirely blame herself. She just wanted peace, escape, to get away for the night. She didn't realize being a target for the supernatural assassins might have been a possibility, at least not tonight.

Even with everything going on.

She should've been more careful. She should've stayed home. She didn't want to put any one else in danger, these people, these assassins weren't messing around, they were lethal.

Guilt fills her core for the millionth time that night and just as she's about to let her guard down and take a seat at the kitchen table the power goes out.

Perfect.

They must've gotten to the electrical grid in the shed. She thinks instantly in panic before remembering that the shed was completely separate from the actual house.

They're just trying to scare you.

And they were doing a pretty good job. Her breathing become labored as she thinks of logical places to hide, but quickly after she comes to the realization that if it really came to that she wouldn't want to run and hide—they'd find her eventually. She'd want to stand up and fight.

Alison would.

So the list changes to things she could use as a weapon.

There weren't guns in the house, those were in the casita down by the lake locked in their chest. But there were knifes and other sharp objects at her disposal right there in the kitchen.

Sure, knifes were no match for something like a gun, but at least it didn't leave her defenseless.

So phone in her hand she stood by the island counter in a place she reasoned out to be difficult to spot walking straight in, large butcher knife in the other.

She didn't want to use it, but god knew she would if anything out there were to threaten one hair on her head.

It's twenty minutes later when the doorbell rings and she can't remember if she heard tire tracks, or the roaring engine of Stiles' jeep before.

She was too focused on staying still and quiet that somehow her hearing over passed her. Her body shaking in fear she finds herself walking towards the front of the door.

"Lydia?" Stiles. It's Stiles. Or maybe it's just her imagination. Some sort of trick to get her to open the door, to draw her outside.

"Lydia open up!"

She wasn't going to take any chances. I have to make sure it's him.

She tries to call at first, knowing he'd understand if it was actually him. But as she reaches for her phone she quickly remembers how it died ten minutes into her wait for them to get there.

Crap. She curses. Think, Lydia. Think.

The idea comes to her rather easily actually. Something only he and I know about. Lydia approaches the door hesitantly, her breath getting caught in her throat not only from the potential danger she could be in right now but from the very memory of what she wanted to voice.

She hadn't thought about that day in a long while.

Her shaky, beautifully manicured fingers grasped at the door.

"H-how did I stop your panic attack?" She whispers shutting her eyes, somehow a sense of calmness instilled within her as she watched her fingers trace the swirls of red paint in the door.

"You, uh… you kissed me." Stiles replies after a moment, the realization of why she wasn't answering the door earlier finally hitting him.

She was scared. She needed to be sure.

Lydia finds her breath as relief runs through her nerves. She's so gratified she wanted nothing more than to open that door and climb inside his warm embrace. The door swings open and suddenly the air around her is as light as day.

"Lydia." His voice is as clear as a crescent moon.

"Are you okay?" Another voice rings out and she comes to the realization that Stiles wasn't alone. Her eye meet the alphas in quick panic. She nods. He heard. "I-I'm fine." there's no denying the smirk he's trying to hide at the moment and Lydia burns red.

"The rest are right behind us, we're gonna check around for anything. Stiles is gonna stay with you." Scott states. "Stay inside until we give you the go."

To which Lydia replies verbally with "okay." yet her expression holds a direct response. Thank you.

"Okay." Of course.

"Hey." Stiles greets in exhalation as Lydia watches Scott disappear from her view.

"Hi." Her voice is so faint, so displaced he questions her mental status as of right now. "Come on, lets sit down." He leads her to the couch contemplating if he should ask if she's okay or something but quickly comes to the conclusion that she obviously wasn't. And him asking, will only automatically guarantee a fake smile and a nod from her.

So instead he sits a little closer to her on the couch, his hands moving about trying to make her comfortable in any way.

But the gleaming fear in her tired eyes never seemed to give. "Lydia."

"Yeah?" She swallowed taking in the image of him peering at her.

"You're gonna be fine." He begins trying to set her mind at ease. She doesn't respond. Just stares at the blank air around her trying to breathe properly.

It wasn't just the physical aspect of their situation it was that all familiar dreadful feeling igniting in the pit of her stomach. Something bad was going to happen.

She doesn't remember a time she was this scared.

"We're all gonna be fine. Scott's out there with the pack, a-and when they say it's clear, you and me—we're gonna get you to the jeep and out of here. Okay?" He wants to instill this type of hope in her. He wants to let her know he's not gonna let anything happen to her.

She nods, she wants nothing more than to believe him, but her instincts tell her something else.

"Something's gonna happen." She reveals faintly as if her mind was just now wrapping itself around the idea.

"W-what do you mean?" She can tell by the struggle in his sentences he's growing anxious. She doesn't mean to cause alarms but she doesn't want to leave him unprepared.

"I don't know."

"O-okay, well is it a feeling—o—or—" He tries to reason, attempting to figure her out. Lydia just sits still, trying to make sense of the angry ball growing in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know." She shakes her head, her eyes glazing over with a coat of salt water.

He watches as she falls apart at the seams in front of him. And he quickly comes to the realization that he wants to be the only one there to catch her when she falls. "Hey, hey. Don't do that." He mumbles as he unfolds her hands from covering her face and holds them in his.

She can't help but gaze into his whiskey eyes.

"I-I can't do this anymore Stiles." She reveals tears staining her cheeks raw. "I can't." She shakes her head and tries to break free from his grasp. But he wouldn't let go. "I-I can't keep waiting around for someone to die. I can't scream anymore. I can't handle it."

His heart falls just listening to her. It wasn't long ago he was in the same position, contemplating his worth, his ability. He holds her close in his embrace. "I know you may feel like this right now, but you're stronger than you make yourself out to be. You're Lydia Martin and you never back down when things get hard. A-and listen," His voice is so tender it's like music to her ears. "you wouldn't have this power if the supernatural gods didn't think you couldn't handle it." This unexpectedly makes her chuckle, but the lighthearted moment is over as quick as it began for the sound of a loud bang erupted from their ears.

Stiles heart raced as he grabbed a tighter hold of Lydia.

"Come on," He swallows and stands taking hold of her hand. He wanted nothing more than to run out of the front door and get to the jeep, and away from this nightmare.

But he knew he couldn't. Scott hadn't given the go yet.

More noises, this time they hear growling and the sounds only supernaturals can make when they're fighting. Stiles can't really pin-point where they're coming from as they're running through the large empty halls of the lake house.

"Lydia, you know this place better than me. Where's a safe place we can hide?" Even though the house had a strong anti-supernatural barrier around it didn't mean they were any safer out in the open.

They stopped as she thought. It was in their most desperate time of need her mind went blank. She hadn't stayed at the lake house in years. Her family would come when she was little and spend the summer with her grandmother, and sure she came more frequently it seemed, but never spend the night. These days it really only served purpose to escape from the city.

Until today, that is.

"Uh…" She tried to think. But all that was coming to her was her grandmothers silent room or the downstairs basement. Neither which would've helped them.

Their safest bet was to stay on the first level and out of sight.

"There's a cupboard, in the kitchen. It locks." Lydia revealed quickly coming back to her now. They knew the lock wasn't gonna do much against any supernatural but it was more secure than staying out in the open.

"Alright. Good."

The space was small and cramped, and was the atmosphere was thick. But it did the trick.

He was gripping her tight, maybe too tight but that didn't matter because she found only comfort in his arms.

If Allison were alive she would've just called her and together, they would've dealt with it briskly. She wouldn't have had the urge to call the whole pack and put them in more danger than they already were. But Allison was not alive and it was not being dealt with the way it was suppose to be. Lydia thought to herself.

Allison.

Oh no. Her tears erupted at the thought of her late best friend took an overwhelming turn on her.

She didn't need this right now.

Stiles couldn't see her but he could sure feel her heart accelerating as her breathing turned to panting.

The limited air in that cupboard was not enough for her needs.

"Lydia?" He questioned the darkness around him. It was only black for now, it would take some time for their eyes to adjust.

But she remained silent, not wanting to reply and have him hear her so broken.

"Lyds." This time his nickname of her isn't modeled into a question. She reciprocates by wrapping her arms around his frame. He can tell she's upset at far more than their current situation, but doesn't want to talk about the reason. At least not right now.

"You brought up the kiss." He continues taking her by complete surprise. She frowns for she has no idea where he's taking this.

"I thought we agreed to never talk about it." He adds, a slight tease in his voice. He's trying to distract her, trying to take her mind off the reality of what's going on beyond that lock door.

Lydia swallows but the frown is still ever present upon her face.

"We never agreed on that." She mumbles in reply. She swears she isn't as broken as she sounds.

"Well, I thought it was more along the lines of an unspoken thing, you know. It was never brought up before."

"I guess there was never a really good time to bring it up." She smiles, almost chuckling. The thought of that memory somehow thinned the air around them. "We never really did talk about it though, hu?" She realized out loud.

Stiles shook his head. "No. Not really. But—I mean there wasn't much to talk about you just did it to stop my panic attack." He commented. The noises outside were dimming and it was getting easier to see so they both let go, now standing across each other.

Stiles could see the outline of her figure in the darkness as he looked down at her. He wished he could see the expression on her face at the moment though. Figures, the only time we could actually talk about the kiss I can't actually see her face. He quickly thinks in annoyance.

"Well, yeah." The way she said that didn't fully convince him though, so he quickly retailed with a "that didn't sound so convincing Lydia—" before a sharp crashing sound erupted from the kitchen echoing through the cupboard that cut him off, and suddenly Lydia was back in his arms. His hand lingered on the side of her shoulder trying to sooth away her fears, even though he himself shook.

He wanted nothing more than to use his skilled vocabulary filled with false comfort and notations of sarcasm to take her worry away but he remained quiet in fear he'd give their location up.

More sounds, glass breaking, wood snapping, grunting and growling.

Lydia's terrified and on the brink of having a panic attack at the thought of losing another one of her best friends. She can't go through it again. There was no more fight left in her.

Stiles tries to calm her down as he crouches and envelopes her into his arms. "Nothing's gonna hurt you, not while I'm around. Understood?" This statement was far from any type of false comfort Stiles had ever delivered for it was the truth.

Lydia nods, and pressed together they hear the crunching of glass echo off into the distance away from their ear shot.

"Must have not been supernatural if it got through the barrier." Stiles thought out loud, and all Lydia could think about was the damage to the lake house.

The stain upstairs had already cost her five hundred dollars, and on top of that broken windows and potential furniture. This was exactly the type of pressure needed on her mothers bank account right now.

"I should've stay home." She whispered.

"I hate agreeing with you on that." Stiles commented, his fingers threading through her strawberry blond locks in comfort.

"Stiles!" Their moment was snatched away quickly by the sound of Scott's grunted voice. "That's our que." Stiles exhaled make a move to unlock the door. And suddenly Lydia's grip on his arm tightened with hesitance.

"Lyds, we gotta go." There as an ever present struggle in his voice from debating if he should take his time and coax her out of the cupboard or act fast before their time was up. He could tell this was a pressing matter.

But the strawberry blond shook her head in utter fear. The small space felt safe, especially since she wasn't alone. And even the the logical side of her was screaming to run, to get out while they could, she couldn't move. She couldn't connect her brain to her limbs.

"I can't." She hissed in panic as she shook her head on repeat.

In the distance they can hear Scott struggling. "Stiles go! Go!" There was such a great urgency in his voice that it couldn't be ignored.

"I know." He breathes, his voice hitched and on the brink of panic. "I know." He swallows. His hands traveling up and down her arms as he shares a determined gaze with her. She could tell his body screamed out the same thing hers did. To not move, to stay in place, under the umbrella of false security. But the reality was they weren't safe there, they had to move.

"But we gotta." His voice is the only thing that lingers through the limited air in the closet. And somehow she find herself nodding.

There were three prominent things that Lydia noticed in what was the blurry haze scene of the lake house as they ran to the jeep.

One, that the main window in the kitchen was completely shattered as well as parts of the breakfast nook.

Two, the panicked look on Scott's face as he mouthed _go_ to them, and tried to fend three assassins off him and Kira.

And three, that Stiles should've defiantly parked closer.

But none the less they get to car, and as Stiles starts the jeep, Lydia's eye catches Liam's as one of the assassins who attempted to make a move for the car shot a bullet through his arm. She could literally feel the fear radiating off his body. But she was thankful Malia stepped in right before they were no longer in her view.

Tears drowned her vision after that.

Stiles just drove. Silent and stone faced, but she could easily see the demons in the back of his head slowly creeping up on him. She knew he hated running away from their problems. _"Scott, I am a problem solver, not a problem… runner!"_ She remembers him saying one day. She shared that same feeling though.

It didn't matter that she was a banshee. She was human as well, or at least she felt more like one when she remained on the sidelines, not being able to fight or defend herself like the others.

And Stiles understood that.

Lydia Martin was completely and utterly grateful for Stiles Stilinski. For his human ability. For his ability to alway be there, for his ability always somehow be the calm in the storm.

She was grateful she didn't have to conquer her demons alone.

The drive was silent as the dark forest danced across their vision and it was only halfway back to Beacon Hills that Lydia realized her hand was still gripped tight to Stiles' arm and she had no intention to let go.


End file.
